by Afzal Moolla

Port of Call.

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

with the breath of the ocean a caressing balm,
soothing pained memories away,
to the swaying of a solitary palm.
Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

feeling the brushing away of all past turmoil,
on a quest for solace, ever so hard to find,
yet comforted by the crashing of the waves,
as the tide cleanses all pain,
and leaves despair far, far behind.
Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

drenched in a sea-breeze of mist,
that hushes the ache of bygone moons,
tasting the salty tang on my lips,
as the burnished sun,
over the distant horizon,
swoons,

and dips.
Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

searching, ever searching,
for a slice of solitude,
as memory bids a final adieu,
reaching under the sea so vast,
and seeking comfort in the depths,
while embracing,
the tomorrows to come,
wishing that they be true.
Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

seeing my truths drown,
as they slip beneath the turquoise waters,

feeling my heart ablaze,
with a passion that rarely falters.
Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

yet knowing that I am home at long last,
wishing the waves would wash away,
the defences that once stood,
like an impregnable wall.

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

I have found, at long last,

my final port of call.

The Whispering Leaf.

Infinite tendrils,
weave exquisite patterns,
forming an immaculate, delicate sheaf,

while morning’s dew whispers,
tales of forgotten woes,
left scribbled on every leaf.

Murmurs float gently,
across solitary trees,
to distant forests deep and dense,
teasing the waving grasses,
while coquettishly inflaming every sense.

Listen! For the murmurs whisper to us all,

listen carefully,
as the whispers recall,
the crushed memories of the lovers’ call.

Listen!
For the whispering leaf shares,
a story that may travel,

to you, to me,
if we still our minds,

and,

gaze upon each leaf,
and quietly marvel.

Warning: Soppy Love Scribble!

Walk with me,
in this crazy world,

where hearts are casually broken,
and kind words rarely spoken.

Take my hand,
on this highway of brittle glass,

where love is traded like blue-chip shares,
and bank-balances are coveted like priceless wares.

Smile with me,
as we walk hand in hand,

as the ocean tickles our toes on the cool beach sand.

Smile with me,
and I shall smile too,

we may not have much,
but you will have all of me,

and I will have all of you.

The Swaying of the Grass.

1.

A path leads,

to where wild grass grows,

sashaying in the summer breeze.

2.

Along the path,
lightness settles within,

feeling the grass,
swooning,
tickling ankles,

swaying to the lilting bird-song,

in a dance of intimate abandon,

brushing the remnants of pain away.

3.

Melodies float across fields of green,

delicately caressing my heart,

teasing emptiness to flee,

comforting the mind,

to silently be.

4.

Walking on,
savouring the peace,

a momentary respite,
from the burdens of the now,

all is quiet,

a stillness cradling fractured emotions,

the grass in the fields sway,

dusk descends,

shadows lengthen,

nudging dimming light to take leave,

of the day